


One Saved Voicemail

by mooningsammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Overuse of italics, Pining, Protective Dean, Wincest - Freeform, confused cas, implied break up, probably, trials!sam, zachariah's damned voicemail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooningsammy/pseuds/mooningsammy
Summary: Dean wanders into Sam's room, nostalgic over their broken relationship. This is where he finds one of Sam's old OLD phones, displaying one saved voicemail.





	One Saved Voicemail

**Author's Note:**

> ANOTHER CHEESY TITLE FOR ANOTHER CHEESY FIC.

_“You have one saved voicemail.”_

Dean frowned at Sam’s phone, one of the old ones, from like 2008-2009. It was sitting on his nightstand, face up, and Dean couldn’t resist lighting up the screen.

Sam was elsewhere in the Bunker, digging through some files, probably. Or getting sick, Dean wasn’t sure. Ever since he’d chosen to do the trials, Sam’s immune system, among other things, had gone down hill. But he never seemed like he felt more pure, according to him.

Dean wondered why this particular message was on the screen of this particular phone, so he shrugged and pressed play, lifting it to his ear.

 _“Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam -- a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back,”_ his own voice spoke back to him, shocking him into standing still as a statue, heart in his throat and ready to vomit.

“Cas… you around?”

The sudden feeling of presence behind him made Dean snap out of it. “Did you know about this?”

“About what?”

Dean hit _speaker_ and pressed play again. _“Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam -- a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back.”_

“Did you know about _that_?”

Castiel was frowning. “Is that from…”

“2009, yeah. The night Lucifer got loose. _That_ is not the message I left for Sam. _What is that_? I called Sam and apologized to him! He wouldn’t have gone through with it if he knew that, which means Lucifer wouldn’t have gotten out, and Sammy wouldn’t have gone to Hell, or been soulless. My little brother thinks I hate him!”

“Dean, I swear, I didn’t know!” Castiel held his hands up.

“Is there any way to play the real message?”

Castiel gingerly took the phone, turning it over in his hands with his eyes closed. After a moment, he pressed play again. _“Hey, it's me. Uh... Look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed... and I owe you a serious beatdown. But... I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers. You know, we're family. And, uh... no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy, I'm sorry.”_

Dean relaxed, a little. “So before I beheaded that son of a bitch, he was sabotaging my relationship with Sammy. Wish I could kill that asshat again.”

Castiel looked around the room. “If I had known, I would have told Sam much earlier.”

Dean nodded.

He paced a lot that night, after he knew Sam had shut himself in his room with a book or two, just outside the door.

It was nearing two in the morning when he heard the message playing.

_“Hey, it's me. Uh... Look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed... and I owe you a serious beatdown. But... I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers. You know, we're family. And, uh... no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy, I'm sorry.”_

Sam coughed. “Huh? What the—“

_“Hey, it's me. Uh... Look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed... and I owe you a serious beatdown. But... I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers. You know, we're family. And, uh... no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy, I'm sorry.”_

He heard something crash, and wandered toward the kitchen. If Sam went looking for him, he didn’t want to be seen as creepy and stalkerish.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was timid, soft, when he poked his head into the kitchen. Dean was sitting at the table, looking into his coffee cup, which he’d filled on a whim.

“Yeah Sammy? You feel okay? Still puking up blood?”

Sam pushed his hair back. He was pale, paler than normal, and stepped into the room, but he didn’t come any closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed, and he shivered, like he couldn’t get warm enough. Dean got up, looking around until he spotted a blanket. He steered Sam into a chair while simultaneously placing the blanket over his shoulders. “Dean… the message you left, the night I let Lucifer out… do you remember what it said?”

“Uh, something about not being like Dad, that I was sorry, and I said stuff I shouldn’t have. Why?” Dean gave him the big brother look, the one about relevance, and Sam’s face fell a little more.

“Oh god. Oh _God_.”

Dean blinked, a little surprised. “Sammy?”

“Oh god, was it Ruby? The message—that’s not what it said when I listened to it…”

“What do you mean, Sam?”

“I wouldn’t have… Dean, I _swear_ I wouldn’t have.”

“Sam, what’s going on?”

“The message I heard… was a lot different than that. It must’ve been Ruby, or—or maybe an angel. I heard… god, I thought you _hated_ me.”

Dean moved, crouching in front of Sam. “Sam… I will never hate you. Never.”

Sam looked him in the eye. “If I hadn’t heard what I heard, I wouldn’t have gone with Ruby that night,” he said softly.

“Sam—

“I need you to know that the message I thought you left… that’s why I went through with it. I thought I had lost you for good, I wasn’t good enough. I’m still not—“

“Don’t say that, Sammy. I know you. You’re not a monster.”

Sam made a strangled noise, and Dean brushed a hand through his hair. “Dean,” he whispered, eyes dropping.

“Sam, please tell me you know you’ll never lose me. You will always be my priority.”

Sam shook his head. “If that was true—“

“Sammy—“

“Dean. Please. You’ve cut me off before.”

“The message—“

“I’m not talking about the message. I’m talking about after the seals, after everything. You told me pick a hemisphere. I begged you to change your mind, but you said we couldn’t be around each other anymore. And _then_ you only changed your mind because of _Zachariah._ ” Sam shook his head. “You don’t know what it’s like, Dean, you don’t understand how it feels when the person you love most in the world looks at you and sees _nothing_ . Just the guy who ruined his life. Who—who crossed all the wrong lines for all the wrong reasons. To be looked at like I’m the devil himself—except I’m not. I’m _not_ . Have you ever gotten that look? Like you _belonged_ in the Cage, with the devil?”

“Sam,” Dean said. His voice was gruff, wrecked. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t hate you, or dislike you, or think you belong anywhere but by my side. I need you to see that. You are _everything_ to me. Okay? I went to Hell for you once, and I’d do it a thousand times. Okay? Please understand me, baby boy, I love you more than anything. And if I had _known_ that you felt this way, felt like I didn’t want you, or didn’t love you, then we would have had this talk a long time ago.”

Dean studied Sam’s face, waiting—for something. He wasn’t sure what.

Sam finally lifted his eyes, must not have realized he’d bitten a hole through his lip. Dean gently touched his thumb to the wound.

“Sometimes I say things, Sam. When I’m scared, or hurt. You know that. And those things, usually, end up a lot harsher than I like. I never should have left you like that. I never should have said those things to you. I regret shit like that every day, Sammy. Like… like when I threw away the amulet. Sammy, every day I wish I could take that back. Every single fucking day.”

Sam pitched forward, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. _“Dean.”_

Dean rubbed his back, holding tight when Sam slipped off the chair to kneel beside him, clinging to Dean like he was dying.

The trouble was, Sam _was_ dying. It certainly seemed that way. “Can you ever love me again, Sammy?”

Sam chuckled against his brother’s neck, breath warm. “I never stopped, jerk.”

Dean held him a little tighter. “Oh, baby boy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”


End file.
